Sentinel
by Zet Sway
Summary: This man, this man I barely knew, was my one solace in this literal nightmare.  I trusted him blindly.  What else was there to do?  Leon/Claire.  Oneshot.


Author's Note: Beautifulmidnight42 of DeviantArt requested Leon and Claire having sexyteims in the S.T.A.R.S. Office. My apologies to her and everyone else, but I could not find it in myself to actually make that happen. I'm sure every writer has experienced the phenomenon where their writing takes on a life of its own. This was one such occasion. I feel that the need for Claire to locate her brother, the need for both her and Leon to escape, would have been far more pressing than even the greatest hormonal urges. But take it for what it is.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Please share yours in a manner that I can learn from in order to better myself as a writer.

Also, I'M WRITING MORE CLEON LOL U MAD BRO?

* * *

><p>I held my breath as I rested my hand on the S.T.A.R.S. office doorknob. This was the last place I could think of that Chris might be. There were three options: either he was here riding out the outbreak, he wasn't here because he had escaped, or… he was dead. I took a moment to calm my nerves as best I could, hoping for the first two outcomes at best. Finally, I took a deep breath and turned the knob, stepping inside, shotgun at the ready.<p>

In half a second we both stood, ready for the worst, senses on high alert, guns pointed… at each other.

"Leon," I breathed with relief, lowering my shotgun. He relaxed visibly and did the same. Without even thinking, I embraced him. Nothing was as sweet as the sight of another living person on this horrific night.

He put an arm around me and we stood for just a moment in silence.

"He's not here, is he?" I whispered against Leon's bloodied RPD uniform.

"I'm sorry, Claire."

I stared at Chris's jacket on the wall. A long time ago, Chris had seen that jacket in a catalogue and he wanted it SO BAD that our father finally bought it for him for Christmas. And of course after I had seen him wearing it around, I wanted my own version of that "Made in Heaven" logo. In the end we'd wound up with matching jackets. More than once we had been mistaken for a couple while wearing them around town. But just seeing that jacket now, just thinking about where my brother might be, tore me apart.

If he wasn't in the station, he could be out on the street, fighting his way through the hordes of undead all by himself. Or worse. He could be dead, his body rotting and infected like the rest of the city. I shuddered at the thought, reflexively hugging Leon tighter.

"I'm sure he made it out okay," he said softly. "None of the S.T.A.R.S. team is here. I'm sure they saved a lot of lives on their way out."

As much as he tried to help, I felt his words cut me like a knife. These are the kinds of things people say to one another when there is no hope, no concrete facts to ease our minds. These are the kinds of things people say when there is nothing else to say. I felt the tears threatening to fall and I fought to hold them back, but a tiny sob escaped me. As small as my reaction was, he picked right up on it.

Wrapping both of his arms around me, Leon hugged me close, resting his head on my hair and taking a deep breath. His embrace overwhelmed me, enfolding my small form. His scent invaded my brain, clouded my thoughts. He smelled… terrible, like bile and blood and rotting flesh, but under it all there was just the faintest whiff of masculine musk, a scent I knew could only be unique to him. I honed in on it, focused on it, and breathed deep. I let it take me over.

This man, this man I barely knew, was my one solace in this literal nightmare. I trusted him blindly. What else was there to do? His embrace, his scent, his warmth, made me feel so safe. I clutched him tight like a child clutches a teddy bear.

I cried. I shivered and heaved and sobbed. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to picture myself somewhere else, anywhere but here. Safe in my bed at school, at dinner with my family, or even fighting with my brother. Anywhere but here.

But strangely enough, as I exhausted myself with tears, the only image that came to mind was myself in this man's arms. Safe. Protected by this strong, silent sentinel.

At nineteen, a young woman's thoughts are filled with all manner of fantasies. Fantasies about careers, fame, happiness, and of course, love. At this particular moment, that love fantasy saw fit to stir the pot, tousle up my hormones and send me spiraling out of control. Overwhelmed by emotion and desperation, I lifted my head, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him right on his dry, parched lips.

He started, understandably taken completely off guard, before he hesitantly kissed me back, gingerly setting his hands on my shoulders. I kissed him with everything I had, but his return was nervous at best. After a few awkward moments, he stopped.

"Claire…" he said quietly. "There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't be kissing you right now."

Damn him for being the nice guy. I put my arms around his neck and laid my head against his chest, trying to calm myself as the sobs continued.

I felt a hand on my cheek, fingertips running down my jaw. He gingerly gripped my chin, bringing it up to look at him. I gazed into his eyes, trying to read his expression.

And then suddenly his mouth was on mine again, his bangs tickling my forehead as he kissed me forcefully, proclaiming me as his for this moment and this moment alone. I let my hands fist themselves in his hair, tangled and stained with grime, and I pulled him closer.

Closer. He couldn't be close enough. I engulfed him with my urgent affections, backing him up against someone's desk, searching deep inside this man, deep inside his heart, his soul, his _mouth_, for something to cling to. Some last shred of life in this hopeless place. He made me feel safe, protected, and _alive_. And I knew, if we somehow made it out of this place alive, I would never leave his side.

My hands fought to tug his padded RPD top out of his belt and over his head, but in mere seconds his bare torso was mine. I ran my hands up his smooth back, burying my face in the crook of his neck and breathing in that masculine scent, now so much stronger than before. His breathing was ragged and he fumbled with my vest, finally managing to push it off my shoulders while I distracted him with open mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

I felt his breath rush past my ear and a shiver ran up my spine. I was in another world, transported by his heaving breaths, his intoxicating scent, his desperate, clumsy hands all over my body. I pushed him down onto the desk, knocking picture frames and pencil cups off it as I climbed atop him and straddled his hips. I ground mercilessly down on his hardness, uttering a breathy moan at the sensation.

I hadn't even realized had closed my eyes until they seemed to open of their own accord. I looked down at him, hair falling away from his face, cheeks flushed. I finally focused on his eyes, such a stormy blue… his eyes clouded with lust and confusion. He paused as I did, hands coming to rest on my waist, just under my shirt.

_"There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't be kissing you right now."_

His words floated through my head. I could see the doubt in his eyes. Was he…?

He was.

He was doing this for _me_. Not because he was in the mood, not because he lusted after me, but because he understood that it somehow took my hurt away, if only for a few moments. But if he didn't want it…

Then what the hell was I doing?

The tears came rushing back as I was ripped out of my reverie. Back to reality, back to the outbreak, back to hoping and praying that Chris wasn't dead.

I collapsed on top of Leon, crying onto his shoulder like a lost child. All of this shit is going on and here I am, losing control again, taking advantage of a 21 year old rookie cop, who still had the heart to put his arms around me as I cried.

Ever so slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position until I was sitting on his lap. He held me and rocked me gently. I don't know how long I sat there; clutching him and weeping, but eventually I cried myself into exhaustion. I settled into his lap and suddenly felt so tired… and his warm hand rubbing wide circles on my back wasn't helping me stay awake.

"Claire…" he whispered softly. "We can't stay here."

"I know…" I said quietly. I didn't want to open my eyes. He gave me a little shake to urge me awake and I gave in, cracking my eyes open.

Jill's desk. We were sitting on Jill's desk. I felt bad for breaking her photo frames but it wasn't like she would be coming back for them after tonight.

"Hey," Leon said with a smile. "We're gonna make it out of here alive, okay?" I nodded, wanting so badly to believe him. "And when we do, we're gonna find your brother, and after that," he paused, a smirk tugging at his mouth, "We can finish up where we left off here. How does that sound?"

I pecked him softly on the mouth. "That sounds amazing." I couldn't help but smile just a little bit.

A tiny ray of hope shone in my mind. If we worked together, we stood a pretty good chance. There was no telling what horrors we might encounter, but at that very moment, it felt like it would all be worth it if I could just spend this last night with this man, my sentinel.


End file.
